


don't trust a poet

by doriangrays (orphan_account)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Flashbacks, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 15:24:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18919765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/doriangrays
Summary: Five years after they ended, Sicheng and Jaehyun meet again.





	don't trust a poet

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [You Felt Right](https://youtu.be/IKcmZudvXlI) by K. Flay
> 
> Thank you to Simone, Maxine, and Ivan for being my beta readers!!!

Melancholy has a strange way of striking Sicheng at inopportune moments when he ought to be elated. He could almost picture the Onion headline to accompany the impression of him-- “Fucking loser sits all by himself at club”. It really couldn’t be helped. He chugs half heartedly at a bottle of beer.

 

It's sort of because his best friend, Ten, is getting married to a nice boy named Kun he met while in college.

 

Just to clarify, it was not because he’s secretly in love with Ten or with Kun, but it was just something envious as a whole- a sweet and simple romance, the cliched love story of the meet-cute, the fluffy dates, the partner in crime antics, the inevitable engagement, all before the age of thirty. It's, just in elaboration, because his best friend is getting married to someone he loves, someone who loves him, the two of them together fitting in both a physical and an emotional sense as two halves of a whole.

 

That is what he is envious of, the fact that someone could see him for his flaws (not that there were many like Sicheng’s) and want him still. It is a bitter and far too honest “can't relate” moment, if one will, for him, to see Ten so happy and to come to the epiphany that thanks to his many faults, he’d certainly never end up so.

 

Nonetheless, he loved Ten and was still happy for him, even if that happiness were infected with a hint of sadness as well. He’d passed it off as a bit of stress over the training he’ll have to do for his next television role, and over being rusty on his clubbing now on account of being far too busy and scrutinized to actually go out. On any other night, Ten would have seen through such flimsy excuses, but tonight, the bounty of drink and the merriment and the sheer jubilation of upcoming nuptials had blinded him, much to Sicheng’s perverse relief.

 

And after all the introductions and abrupt conversations that concluded too soon and too stiffly, undoubtedly making a poor impression on his soon-to-be honorary brother-in-law's friends, it ends up here, with Sicheng off to the side as Ten was engrossed in his husband-to-be, him on his second bottle of beer, too awkward and stilted to want to get down on the dance floor and try his luck with a stranger.

 

 _Where did all my years go?_ He thinks to himself ruefully. He used to be the life of the party in college. Now at twenty six, he can safely confirm his looks haven't deteriorated so much, but something about him feels _off_. Sicheng finds himself thinking of the days when he would be able to scroll through his snapchat, send something to someone, and get a response, ostensibly one where clothing came off and he got a good orgasm out of it.

 

This is all wrong. He's feeling _sentimental_ and _glum_ , utterly unlike him. Usually he vacillates between neutral and something like aloofness, and he pins the accountability for the sudden sensation of loneliness to realizing his best friend has found the love of his life, and Sicheng will never get to know his.

 

“You look like shit,” a sweet voice says from beside him, snapping him out of his misery momentarily.

 

He doesn’t look over at the man, merely rolling his eyes and biting back with, “Thank you kind sir. I was totally waiting on a stranger to be passing judgment on my looks.”

 

A sigh. A shift of the warmth in the room, indicating someone adjusting their position, sitting back up on the barstool beside Sicheng as he continues his staring contest with the Blue Moon logo on his beer bottle. A sharp chuckle. “I guess you haven't changed much, Sicheng.”

 

That is what makes him sit up straighter, peeking out of the corner of his eye from beneath his lashes, and then he spins around abruptly in his seat to face the newcomer.

 

“Jaehyun?” he says, not quite choking on air out of shock but fairly close to it. “What are you doing here?”

 

Talk about deja vu.

 

The goody two-shoed student body president of their college, constantly attired in cardigans and collared shirts.

 

( _It is stuco election season, and the frontrunning contenders are Jung Jaehyun, Jeon Jungkook, and Jo Haseul for the class of 2020. Sicheng usually doesn’t concern himself with the matters of the student council, so long as the theater department kept its funds and productions, so how Ten, then just a friend from improv, managed to rope him into attending a debate is beyond him._

 

_In his own defense, he was bored and too lazy and tired to call up his current liaison du jour. Not that Ten’s plans to sit in on kids playing politics were any better, but in retrospect, he thinks of it as fate._

 

_Haseul’s speech was decent enough, her points made fair and logical, accompanied by polite applause which she had smiled in acknowledgement of. Jungkook came onstage in a Hawaiian shirt and breezed through his presentation with the air of someone bullshitting an essay to uproarious cheering._

 

_And then there was Jung Jaehyun, dressed less formally than Haseul’s pantsuit, though more respectable by far in comparison to Jungkook’s beach stoner getup. He is wearing a lilac cardigan and a white collared shirt and khakis and oxfords._

 

_“That, my friend,” Ten declares as they watch Jaehyun give his campaign speech, “Is an utmost tragedy of fashion. Look at him. He's literally six feet tall and he's got abs for days-- trust me, I know, we played basketball together once-- but he dresses like a middle aged white dad who thinks golf is an extreme sport.”_

 

_“Yeah,” Sicheng agrees absentmindedly. His eyes are glued to the speaker on the podium as Jaehyun's voice rings out with dedication._

 

_Ten nudges him. “Did I lie, though?”_

 

_“Haven't ever seen him out of clothes,” Sicheng mutters back, “So I'll have to take your word for it.”_

 

_“I'd say you should try for it,” Ten whispers back, elbowing him conspiratorially, “But I don't think he's that type of guy. Heard from a classmate who's one of his friends he's literally born on Valentine's day, that's how hopeless of a romantic he is. Unless you've signed the marriage documents, I doubt you'll get into his pants.”_

 

_“That's no loss.” Really, it wasn’t._

 

_Ten giggles. “Right. I think you've slept with at least half our year by now.”_

 

_“There's plenty other people who are willing,” Sicheng shrugs. “Why him?”_

 

_Ten's smile is sharp and promises mischief. “The resident bad boy and the student council president? Forgive me for loving my tropes.”_

 

 _Sicheng shoves at Ten. “Fuck you and your 1D fanfics.”_ )

 

Outspoken Jaehyun, who picked a fight with him in the middle of literature class over differing readings of _Romeo and Juliet_.

 

( _Sicheng is dozing off a hangover when a sharp voice cut through his unconsciousness._

 

_“As I was saying, Romeo and Juliet represents the way love is the only thing to get rid of hate.” Sicheng peeled his eyes open blearily. “And the transformative power love has.”_

 

_He snorted when he sees Jaehyun speaking, making a scoffing noise before he interjected, “I disagree.”_

 

_Heads turned to him, Jaehyun’s amongst them, and the other scanned his face before raising an eyebrow._

 

_“Romeo and Juliet follows a theme of impulsiveness,” Sicheng said after clearing his throat. “The plot wouldn’t have turned out as is if there were not the deciding factor of impetuousness. It’s a critique, not some sort,” he squinted at Jaehyun, “flowery love story.”_

 

_“If Romeo and Juliet never fell in love, their parents’ feud wouldn’t have been resolved,” Jaehyun piped up._

 

_“Or maybe they should have just calmed the fuck down and talked to each other,” Sicheng muttered to a ripple of laughter._

 

_Jaehyun’s eyes were wide with mingled disbelief and disdain. “What would be the fun of that?”_

 

_“No one dying,” Sicheng retorted. Cue another round of raucous laughter._

 

_The corners of Jaehyun’s lips lifted up, up, and higher, till his eyes crinkled and two indents appeared in the centers of his cheeks. “Touche,” he said, voice full of laughter. “Agree to disagree?”_

 

 _Sicheng nodded. “Sure.”_ )

 

Pretty, pliant Jaehyun who stumbled into his bed one night after a party.

 

( _It starts with Ten again, though Sicheng is far more acclimated to the party scene than to a pseudo-political debate. It was the elder’s birthday, and Ten had decided to celebrate it by packing his place full of people and then trashing it._

 

_There’s a cup of something or another Ten had pressed into his hand with a giggle that Sicheng took only an experimental sip of to be polite before he deemed it unsafe for human consumption._

 

_He set it down on the counter and went to the kitchen sink to rinse out the bitterness from his tongue before a giggle interrupted him._

 

_Standing in the doorway, one hip propped against the frame is Jaehyun. “You look funny.”_

 

_“Hi yourself,” Sicheng shot back easily, a smile appearing on his face._

 

_Jaehyun looked good, despite his bookish air. He even undid the top two buttons on his shirt. Jaehyun was also awfully close all of a sudden, smiling from his eyes._

 

_Sicheng watched as a pink tongue darted out to dampen his full lower lip. “How’s the party going?”_

 

_Jaehyun shrugged. “It’s going.”_

 

_A beat, and then he said slowly, “Wanna get out of here?”_

 

_Jaehyun’s eyes searched his, and then he tilted his head to the side. “Your place or mine?”_

 

_“Yours, please,” Sicheng had responded._

 

_It wasn’t a social visit. That was made abundantly clear the moment the door of Jaehyun’s apartment had swung shut behind them, and Jaehyun turns, hooking a finger around his belt hoops to pull him in._

 

_The kissing was hot, and so was Jaehyun’s mouth around his dick. They eventually made it to the bedroom, and it was there that Sicheng slowly took Jaehyun apart piece by piece, fumbling across the unfamiliar planes of his body, learning it._

 

_Jaehyun splayed out across the bed when they’re too tired for any more, and they cleaned each other up with tissues the best they can. Sicheng felt himself getting drowsier and stretches out across the bed._

 

_The next morning, he woke before Jaehyun did and left a note with his number on it, along with a scribbled, “maybe we could meet up again sometime?”_

 

 _Several hours later, Sicheng received a text from an unknown number that proclaimed, “hey, this is jaehyun, and sure thing!”_ )

 

Who Sicheng found interesting enough to keep coming back to.

 

( _It was all manners of trite to have texted “u up?” to Jaehyun, but Sicheng had, in lack of better terms, an itch that he needed scratched, and Jaehyun was his go-to person as of the moment for it._

 

_He doesn’t think about how Jaehyun's stuck around much longer than most of his flings have, the moment and its standard two week time frame having melted into ten._

 

_He doesn't think much at all when there's knocking at the door and he pulled it open to reveal Jaehyun looking up at him with charmingly blushed cheeks. Without a word, they head to Sicheng's room, Jaehyun pulling his sweatshirt over his head and then falling backwards onto his bed._

 

_“Sicheng,” Jaehyun had breathed out when the younger latched his lips onto the place just under his ear, biting down hard enough to leave a bruise._

 

_He liked marking up Jaehyun's skin perhaps a bit more than he should._

 

_“Quit teasing.”_

 

_Sicheng had laughed as he brushed a hand, feather-light, against the straining front of Jaehyun's boxers before leaning forwards to kiss him. Sicheng knew Jaehyun's body as well as his own by now, far past the awkward stages, movements practiced as he made Jaehyun come across his chest with a series of broken moans._

 

_Jaehyun laughed too, breathless in the afterglow, chest slick and heaving. “Wow,” he pants, twisting over to Sicheng._

 

_“Yeah,” Sicheng parroted back._

 

_Jaehyun had smiled at him, eyes sparkling under the dim moonlight before he leaned forward to press a kiss to Sicheng's cheek._

 

_It's sweet, a bit unsettling. Kisses for them were always meant to be a prelude to sex, but instead of shifting to pull him closer, Jaehyun merely turned away, burrowing into the blankets._

 

_Sicheng cleared his throat and opened his mouth to say something along the lines of “It's late, shouldn't you get going?” Instead, he said, “It's late. Stay here for the night if you want.”_

 

_A moment of silence, then a sigh. “Thank you.”_

 

_“Don't worry about it,” he insisted as he sat up, walking over to the bathroom. Inside, he splashed water all over his face and took the condom off, cleaned himself before running a towel under the faucet._

 

_He had wrung it dry before returning to the bedroom, tapping Jaehyun's shoulder and then pushing the towel into his hand._

 

_“Clean yourself up,” he said._

 

_“Thanks,” Jaehyun mumbled, wiping away the residue of sweat and come._

 

_He gave the towel back when he was done and Sicheng tossed it into the sink. Returning to his room, he saw the steady rise and fall of Jaehyun's shoulders characteristic of slumber, and a bubble of fondness rose in his throat despite it all._

 

_He shook himself out of it before climbing into bed, keeping his distance from Jaehyun's form._

 

 _Even so, he had awoken the next morning with his chin hooked over Jaehyun's shoulder and his legs entwined with the other's._ )

 

But that is a story for later as he examines Jaehyun, the same way Jaehyun does to him.

 

“Out with friends,” is his succinct response.

 

Five years has changed him so fundamentally that the name that fell from Sicheng’s lips was prompted by mostly instinct, by some thread of fate that would have karma come kick his ass in the form of one Jung Jaehyun. At the first blinking gaze, there and gone in the span of a lightning flash, he could not visually identify the man sitting beside him. But as he looked further, turning to face him with shoulders squared and chin up in false bravado that masked his nervousness as if x-raying an old painting to uncover its secrets and its techniques, he found the traces of the quiet and bookish boy from before, but it seemed as though more had changed than stayed the same.

 

Gone was the softness of youth; gone was the shyness and the uncertainty. The man before him had fashionably cut brown hair brushing over his eyes, face and body all sharp angles, his posture disciplined but casual.

 

Yet it's his eyes that truly have changed, so far removed from the warmth and infatuation that once effused their golden depths when they fell on Sicheng. Now they bear nothing but mild interest, as if Sicheng were a curious specimen he happened upon at the zoo. Scrutinized, yes, but ultimately empathized with, no.

 

It feels a bit like the tables have turned from their place all those years ago, when Sicheng used to strip Jaehyun out of his clothes and watch as the elder blushed at the attention. Now he does the same under Jaehyun's gaze.

 

“So, Sicheng,” Jaehyun says, seemingly through with his introspection, “How are you?”

 

The question takes him aback- it's too casual and too lackadaisical for what they were to each other, right? But then he remembers it as a greeting towards people one has not seen in a while. Perhaps Jaehyun has forgiven him, even if seeing the other has brought back a fresh wave of guilt to his own mind.

 

“Oh, um,” he clutches the neck of the beer bottle idly, occupying his fidgeting hands. Gazing out over the dance floor, Sicheng spots the newly-engaged locked in a slow embrace, shifting from foot to foot to the beat of a sappy ballad and nods towards them. “Ten’s getting married,” he announces with a smile that lifts up the corners of his mouth but little else of his countenance or his mood.

 

Jaehyun's laughter is deep, deeper than it had been before in those moon-dappled nights when they used to press up against one another, bodies clumsy with unfamiliarity and drink the first time. It's a silly thing to remember. Sicheng shakes his head to clear himself of the thought before Jaehyun floods his awareness again as he sweeps his left hand through his hair carelessly.

 

Jaehyun speaks again, his tone deceptively light. “I asked about you, not Ten.” A hint of humor is in his voice, and maybe Sicheng was too on edge, but it felt rather avuncular in its condescension. Quite possibly, this was the way Jaehyun felt when he was around him back then.

 

So his hurt pride did the only thing it could, and he retorts back with a list of his own accomplishments.

 

“I’m in that new show coming out in the fall, the one with the spies,” he smiles proudly. “Just finished filming before spring break. They’re in post production now.”

 

Jaehyun nods, drumming his fingers on the table as he hums under his breath. “I knew you would make it, acting,” he says. “You were always too good at making people believe and feel what was untrue.”

 

How the tables have turned indeed.

 

Sicheng flushes from a combination of drink and the subtle accusation in Jaehyun's voice. How well Jaehyun knows him to throw him off-balance like this, everything about the two of them now inverted. Jaehyun shouldn't be remembering. Memories are dangerous things, and this one threatens to crack Sicheng’s chest open full of guilt and a heart of whispered “what-ifs” despite the expression on Jaehyun’s face being politely curious and bordering on bland, with even the initial smolder having been subdued as he kept his eyes trained on Sicheng’s face.

 

Of course he graduated from the acting program at Newcity University with full honors. By the time he was a junior, he was being booked for Shakespeare productions in the highbrow theaters downtown, raking in accolades. He always had liked Shakespeare an awful lot, even past the stage where theater kids usually outgrow their enchantment with the playwright.

 

He’s too coward to admit to himself that the reason lay in dimples and flashing eyes.

 

“You did?” he asks, shocked.

 

Jaehyun shrugs. “Why wouldn't I? I was caught up in it. Your acting was that good.”

 

The sharp note in his voice hits Sicheng's nerves anew. “I'd honestly thought we were going to just end up footnotes and anecdotes to each other for our respective grandchildren to tell one day if we were lucky,” Sicheng mumbles to himself, awed at the detail with which he recalled Sicheng’s talents and quirks and flaws, his notorious reputation in university. “Fuzzy college blurs if we weren't.”

 

That was untrue, though it might have been the case if after the time they’d escalated into a match of witty commentary over interpretations of Shakespeare, they’d never crossed paths ever again. But they did, and then did more than crossed paths, time after time, enough for the footprints of each other to sink into their respective hearts.

 

Or for their orbits to intersect in a collision that fragmented both of them, aftershocks felt for years following the actual catastrophe itself.

 

He shrugs, his face drawn sullenly in contrast to the intensity returning to his eyes once more. “Remembering was easy for me.”

 

“Still, it's been, what? Five years?” Sicheng laughs breathily, trying to play it off whilst his heart begins to beat in erratic double time. His face was getting warm, and he felt like he was being scolded by his parents like this- embarrassed and waiting for the torment to end. “That's a long time, I honestly wouldn't be able to remember back that much.”

 

Jaehyun’s face darkens visibly as he downs the shot glass of amber liquid in his hands. “I don’t think I’m surprised about it, just disappointed.”

 

The guilt washes over Sicheng full force, and he avert his eyes from Jaehyun’s form. “Jaehyun--” he begins, before the other shakes his head.

 

“If it's not an apology, I don't want to hear it,” he snaps.

 

Sicheng deflates and turns back towards him, a hand unconsciously coming up to tug on his earlobe- an old nervous habit Jaehyun must have recognized if the flash of pain in his angry eyes was anything he could have gleaned. The mere moment that they were open before he shuttered them again was something he wished he had lost the ability to discern after so much introspection. So much easier to pretend it was apathy and cold anger instead of live and still-burning brands upon their hearts.

 

The apology and admission wouldn't come out and he gulps up the dregs of his beer to stop himself from choking on the words. As soon as the glass hits wood dully, an impulsive query leaves his lips, repeated from Jaehyun mere minutes earlier.

 

“Jaehyun, how are you?”

 

His expression had morphed from impatience to bitter disappointment whilst Sicheng whittled away the minute between his outburst and Sicheng speaking, and he had been getting to his feet before he pulls up short at the question, and for the moment his dark mood falls away into genuine surprise. “What?”

 

Sicheng reaches out his hand towards him, as if to physically detain Jaehyun there. He wonders if the skin on the inside of his arm is still as soft as before. He wonders briefly, what if he kisses Jaehyun full of all the words he can’t say for once in his life, but then he remembers that he doesn’t deserve to touch him anymore.

 

Five years doesn’t fade out any of it, but Sicheng has always prided himself on being a good actor, a good liar. He wonders if that’s all Jaehyun remembers of him, the sweet lies that Sicheng whispered into his skin as he fucks him slowly into the mattress. All the distorted confessions in the throes of orgasms that precluded an empty bed the next morning and the heat of the moment cooling to a stranger outside their bedrooms.

 

Sicheng lays his hand on the bar table instead, balling it up into a fist.

 

Jaehyun’s shock fades away all too quickly into guardedness, his face making an effort to appear inscrutable. “I’m doing okay.” A neutral statement. “Got a job at the high school as an English teacher. I’ve been living a pretty fulfilled existence,” he adds, a dimple poking into his cheek.

 

Sicheng nods. The “without you” seems all too tangible despite Jaehyun having never given voice specifically to it, and Sicheng blinks as he forces himself not to think about any and all past possibilities, and tries not to wish for time travel to be a thing. His nails dig into his palms.

 

“I have a boyfriend now,” Jaehyun continues easily, eyes searching Sicheng's.

 

Sicheng thinks the ache in his chest couldn't get  any worse, but it does.

 

“His name is Doyoung,” he carefully elaborates, tearing his gaze from him. “He’s a music teacher at the elementary school. We're going to get married come next February. Valentine's day. We adopted a son.”

 

“What’s his name?” Sicheng whispers, his heart stretched taut to the point that he thinks it might just break and snap against his ribcage.

 

Jaehyun smiles now, and even in his anger at Sicheng, the love that glows out of his expression is all too real, too warm, and Sicheng turns away, burnt. “Jeno.”

 

He takes a deep breath, fingers tightening around the neck of the bottle before releasing. “I’m glad you’re happy, then. I was horrible to you,” he says finally. “You deserved a better first love than I was. A do over.”

 

The admission was choked out, and Sicheng sniffs despite himself before Jaehyun brings up a hand to his face, carefully tracing over the swell of Sicheng’s cheeks as he stares at him, wide-eyed, feeling the dampness being swept away by the knuckle of his index finger. “At times like this, I wish I hadn't,” he murmurs slowly as he studies Sicheng’s face with those eyes of his that seemed too fond, too full of longing.

 

Sicheng had always thought the descriptions in novels of his heartbeat catching in his throat were ridiculous till now. “Jaehyun?” he asks uncertainly.

 

The other's answering smile is acrid but nostalgic. “It never really goes away, you know? Like a scar.”

 

“I know,” Sicheng informs him, reaching up to grasp at his wrist, though the tears don't seem to stop flowing freely but silently from his eyes.

 

His fingers encase Jaehyun's wrist and pulse like a delicate manacle, feeling the veins beneath his skin suddenly fluttering like a fledgling, his own heart's rhythm throbbing at the tips of his fingers and along his knuckles and palm in an erratic staccato. Jaehyun's eyes meet his, and it's as if that is the final piece of the puzzle to preserve the image forever. It's as if Rodin had cast the two of them in marble and bronze, or they were entrapped by the amber light of the bar as surely as if it were actually amber sap. The warmth of his skin burns just as much as Sicheng remembers it in those moments where he once took the time to drink in all of Jaehyun at once, flushed like a dusk rose and hair mussed, nothing like the cardigan-wearing good boy as his campus persona proclaimed. This feels like the heat emanating from when Sicheng once pins his wrists down before kissing them both into drunkenness.

 

For all that Sicheng wishes to feel nothing for him anymore, and all that Jaehyun wants to hate him, it was as though the Fates decided to laugh instead at their combined mental pleas and yank a red string around their hands instead, tangling their emotions and their paths and their forms with each other's.

 

A blink of an eye is the amount of time it lasts, nothing more, though it feels impossibly slowed down, every single frame lengthened to a fifth of its original speed. Then Sicheng registers the way Jaehyun's name is called with sharp joviality off in the distance. The moment and the silence tumbles down and about his heated ears, and Jaehyun lets go of his hand, brushing it off the way one would brush cobwebs from their face.

 

( _Maybe he was too much of a coward to end things properly. Maybe that was why his phone was grasped in his shaking hands, typing out a short “hey” instead of inviting Jaehyun over._

 

_Jaehyun replied within the minute with a smiley faced emoji and a “hey!” in response. A few more seconds of hovering dotted lines on on the bottom of the screen before he texted, “do you want me to come over?”_

 

_Sicheng took a fortifying breath. “About that…”_

 

_Jaehyun had messaged back nearly immediately with, “Sicheng?”_

 

_“This is sorta sudden and I get if you're upset over it,” Sicheng began._

 

_Jaehyun said, “Okay.”_

 

_“But lately I'm just not feeling it?? Like, it used to be great but--”_

 

_“You want someone new??”_

 

_Sicheng sighed in relief. He knew Jaehyun would understand. “I guess? I have no one really in mind right now though.”_

 

_“You're just bored with me?” Sicheng wants to pretend there's no sort of bite or resentment behind Jaehyun's words._

 

_“I guess, yeah,” Sicheng typed out casually._

 

_“Oh,” Jaehyun replied. “Okay.”_

 

_“Thanks for getting it. We can stay friends if you want,” he offered. “You were cool.”_

 

_“Actually…” Jaehyun had ventured. “I'd prefer if we weren't.”_

 

_“Fair enough,” Sicheng mentally shrugged. “It would make things sorta awkward.”_

 

_“Yeah…”_

 

_“Well thanks for everything.”_

 

_Relatively speaking, it was a fairly clean break, but Sicheng somehow feels his chest squeezing in on itself anyways._

 

_But it wasn't like he lied or something-- the sex nowadays with Jaehyun felt too much, nearly uncomfortable in the way there seemed to be unspoken expectations hanging in the air. The need to be gentle towards Jaehyun afterwards nearly suffocating, the urge to wrap his limbs around Jaehyun and lull them both to sleep even stronger, the skip-stutter of his heart when he blinks his eyes open to see the head of sandy brown hair against his shoulder potent enough to make him wonder if he were suffering from a cardiovascular condition._

 

_He needed a change, and the only way he could do that is if he were freed from that arrangement with Jaehyun._

 

 _He pretended not to see Jaehyun's bloodshot eyes and forlorn expression the next morning as he filed into class._ )

 

This time, Jaehyun's the one to leave, though perhaps less abruptly than Sicheng had broken things off himself five years ago. Even so, it does leave a similar sensation of hollowness building up in Sicheng's chest, the lack of closure and the longing burrowing so deep into him it formed a recess.

 

Then again, it was only fair to let Jaehyun go. Sicheng broke his heart all those years ago, and if Jaehyun breaks his heart now, it's all just part of the “Sorry” that never quite made it past Sicheng's lips.

 

He watches Jaehyun slip away into the crowd.

 

He should move on. It did no good to dwell on the “what if”s of life, and Jaehyun was going to be happy. Sicheng wouldn't take it from him, too proud to beg.

 

( _Jaehyun was always better at that, anyways_.)

 

Sicheng watches as a taller man claps Jaehyun on the shoulder, probably querying him regarding his whereabouts whilst he nodded and spoke, the strobe lights illuminating the graceful slope of his profile. His friend gestures out- somewhere deeper into the club, or maybe indicating that they might depart soon, for Jaehyun nods before turning back, his eyes locking on Sicheng's for a brief second.

 

He lifts a hand in farewell before he truly slips away from Sicheng in the time it takes him to blink.

 


End file.
